


The Edge of Too (A "Too late...too soon?" Remix)

by VerdantMoth



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, First Kiss, Holidays, M/M, New Beginnings, Platonic Relationships, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-08-23 16:20:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16622291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerdantMoth/pseuds/VerdantMoth
Summary: Usually he has the entire walk to the shop, what with Merlin crashing all the time. In truth, Merlin had slept in his bed last night while Gwaine slummed it on the couch. However, there was a mishap with the laundry. (“They’re all my shirts, Merlin! You can’t possibly be mad I’m wearing MY OWN shirt?!” “Gwaine, you know I reserve the rights to the taco shirt.”) Merlin had been forced to retreat to his own flat for a clean top.





	The Edge of Too (A "Too late...too soon?" Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Too late....too soon?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13798470) by [Aeris444](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeris444/pseuds/Aeris444). 



> Inspired by the lovely Aeris444 fic "Too late...too soon." It is a WONDERFULLY heartbreaking little piece!

1\. Gwaine immediately knows, the minute Arthur arrives, he is going to be a problem.  Merlin is curled into his side on the couch when Leon brings Arthur over. Arthur, who stares at the cuddling pair with heavy contemplation. Merlin brightens, in that way he does, and pulls the blond onto the couch. He tucks his feet under Arthur’s thighs and uses Gwaine as his own personal body pillow.

Arthur’s eyes don’t leave Merlin’s face once, and yet Gwaine thinks he somehow manages to track the movements of Merlin’s fingers across Gwaine’s thighs. There’s nothing in it, just gentle, absent caresses.

"I swear to all the stars, Merls, you don’t keep bananas in the fucking fridge.”

Merlin turns, accidentally kicking Arthur, to shove a finger into Gwaine’s chest. “I’m telling you, you overgrown fur ball, you have to keep them in the fridge! They go bad less quickly.”

The argument spirals from there, a series of gentle shoves and not so gentle insults until Leon throws his hands up and huffs, “Get a room already!”

Merlin looks back, glib and laughing, as he says, “Already have one, but Gwaine here seems to think it is his!”

When Gwaine replies, “That is because it is, as I pay the rent.” He doesn’t add, “but you are welcome anytime.” He also doesn’t miss the way Arthur catches Merlin’s eyes and Merlin blushes.

It is too soon to worry about the golden boy.

2\. Arthur is cautious as he approaches Gwaine outside of the coffee shop. He has taken to intruding on Merlin and Gwaine and Leon’s usual meetup, per the request of Merlin. He makes it a point, however, to never be alone with Gwaine. It hasn’t ever bothered Gwaine; he’s actually pleased to have a few moments alone with Merlin.

Usually he has the entire walk to the shop, what with Merlin crashing all the time. In truth, Merlin had slept in his bed last night while Gwaine slummed it on the couch. However, there was a mishap with the laundry. (“They’re all my shirts, Merlin! You can’t possibly be mad I’m wearing MY OWN shirt?!” “Gwaine, you know I reserve the rights to the taco shirt.”) Merlin had been forced to retreat to his own flat for a clean top.

“I’m going to ask him out.” Arthur’s voice is steady, his shoulders strong, but Gwaine can see the tremor in his leg.

"I suppose you are.”

“Do you approve?”

Gwaine studies him. “Merlin has never needed my approval.”

Arthur offers him a soft smile, something private that churns in Gwaine’s belly. “No, but he values it above all.”

Gwaine wants to say,  _ “No, he’s mine.” _

Instead he offers, “I will not object to Merlin’s choice.”

He tries to maintain his composure when Merlin swoops in wearing a ridiculously glittery dragon shirt and plants sloppy kisses on both of their cheeks.

He is too proud to admit he is afraid of that choice.

3\. New Year’s has always been  _ theirs _ , from the first time in third grade, when the kiss was strawberry-sticky and done to make the adults laugh. It’s never serious, their New Year’s kiss, but it is traditional. Sloppy and messy and, as they grew older, half-drunk, but theirs all the same.

Everyone knows it is theirs. It’s why he is a little surprised when Arthur swoops in at midnight, skin glossy and eyes shiny. Merlin’s laughing, three shots in, and their mouths miss completely. It’s terribly tragic for a first kiss, but they make up for it with their second, and then their third. They’re all soft and wrapped around each other and the noises are… well, what kisses should sound like, when not done for amusement.

Merlin finds him later, a little more sober and eyes still bright. “I’m sorry I missed our kiss.”

Gwaine wants to be mad. Wants to yell, scream, to tell Merlin, “Tradition!” He also wants to confess. “You were mine first. I thought you knew it.”

Gwaine just smiles, pulls him in by his ears, and plants one loud, sloppy smack on his cheek.

He is too drunk to admit he envies Arthur the first kiss of the year.

4\. Arthur asks his permission. He asks Hunith, first, and Balinor, but after Thanksgiving dinner he corners Gwaine in the hallway where Merlin grew up.

"I’ll not make him choose.” Arthur’s eyes are serious, and Gwaine knows he means it. That he has a chance, here and now, to put his name in the pot. Merlin walks out of his childhood bedroom and sees them, and his grin is so bright and so excited and he grips them both in a tight hug, fingers skimming over their shoulders. “I knew you two got along! Never did understand that pissing contest you had going on! Thought I was going to have to make a schedule to see either of you.”

Gwaine snorts, eyes on Arthur as he says, “We both know who’d fill up more time slots.” He nods at Arthur, just once, and tries to make his smile less watery.

Arthur nods back and offers his hand for a shake.

When Merlin comes out of the bedroom wearing a solid steel band an hour later, Gwaine pulls him in for a tight hug and pretends the tears are happy.

His heart is too broken to stop the flow. 

5\. The wedding is beautiful, as weddings usually are. It’s all shades of gold and red and blue, and Arthur stands proud as a king and Merlin looks awed just to be in his presence. Gwaine tries not to grip his hands too tight, tries not to cry too loudly.

“Does anyone object?”

Gwaine hesitates, makes eye contact with the priest. This is his moment. He has reached the edge of too late, and he must speak. Must stake his claim and let everyone know that Merlin is his. And then Merlin meets his eyes, and there is so much joy dancing in them, and Merlin blows a stupid raspberry at him and Gwaine realizes, he cannot speak.

He has already tipped over the edge and he has lost Merlin. It breaks him, and when he sobs, softly, Arthur gives him a small nod. It says  _ “I know, and I’m sorry.” _

Merlin hugs him too tight afterwards. “I never knew you to cry at a wedding.”

Gwaine tries to laugh. “I’m just so damn excited to have my flat back to myself.”

He is too late- and too tired to admit it.

+1. Dancing, Gwaine can do. He’s rather renowned for his ability to jive and grind and sway on a floor, but tonight he finds himself glued to a chair. He watches a vision in blue dance with a nightmare in red, and he is so very afraid.

He should have known, that first night, that he was already too late. That the moment Merlin tucked his feet under Arthur’s legs, he should have been worried. But he was too comfortable. Merlin had always been a presence in his life, this attainable constant he’d expected forever.

He’d always had a habit of being too comfortable in life.

That is why, when a mountain of a man steps forward, with a soft smile, he finds himself suddenly shying away.          

“Dance?” The mountain asks. “It’s just… Everyone is dancing and you’re here alone so… I thought… as I’m alone, too...”

Gwaine is on the edge again. Too soon to let his heart heal, too soon to release Merlin. Too late to make his feelings known. He glances back once more, at the red and blue blur, haloed in golden light.

“I would be honored.” He grabs the large hand and allows himself to be led to the dance floor.

"I’m Percival.”

“Gwaine.” And maybe it is all too much. Maybe he's letting himself fall too soon, too fast, too sudden, but Gwaine finds he cannot care. He will not lose another chance or live with the heavy weight of regret on his shoulders.

He will not live on the edge of too, anymore.

  
  



End file.
